Sunday, April 9, 2023
More and more I identify with Vincent van Gogh, or at least how he is portrayed in the beautiful Doctor Who episode where Matt Smith’s Doctor and Amelia Pond visit the painter. The good that I experience in life, big or small, doesn’t detract from the bad. And vice versa. My highs and lows don’t get flattened into a line of okayness. They come and go, and I know that I will get to enjoy them, in a sense, no matter what came before or after.
The world is full of unbearable pain and suffering, and yet we find a way to bear it.
The world is full of incomprehensible beauty and joy, too.
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Sometimes I still hate myself, although I’m beginning to see how much of a mistake that is. Not a mistake because it’s not “good” for me. A mistake because it is a misunderstanding of the things about me that I have trouble accepting.
My negative emotions are all ways that my body is trying to protect me. Interestingly, even my “self-destructive” or “self-sabotaging” behaviors are actually self-defense mechanisms that are misfiring, or being misused. Push people away so that you can control how they enter and exit your life. Hurt yourself so that you know when the hurt will come and not be surprised by it. These are misapplications of a desire to keep you safe, keep me safe.
But do we hate the thing that’s trying to help? If a loved one is doing their best to be on your side and protect you, do you loathe and despise them? Even if they are actually making things worse, you thank them and then tell them they don’t need to do what they’re doing anymore.
I’m trying something. Not sure how it will work. I absorbed it through social media, so I can’t even say where it came from. But it goes something like this:
Identify what it is about yourself that you hate.
Identify what that thing is doing - the negative impact.
Identify what that thing is trying to do - the protective intent.
Try to feel it inside your body, as tension, heat, cold, pain, etc.
Acknowledge the behavior and thank it for trying to keep you safe.
Thank it and tell it that you’re safe now, and it can rest.
Feel around to see if the thing is still there. If so, gently repeat the process.
We have to feel the feelings or they remain inside us, messing us up in unexpected ways. I have trouble feeling them in my body, so that’s a challenge for me, but it’s an interesting exercise.
I’m trying not to hate the things about me that are less than ideal. I still do - I have a lot of misunderstanding to undue - but I think this is helping.
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What are my qualifications? None, except for my own experience and a desire to help. Going back to Doctor Who, “I am an idiot … passing through, helping out.” I hope my own struggle with my darkness can help you with yours, or understand the struggle of someone you love.
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Life before death
Strength before weakness
Journey before destination
I mean sure. But like this is the journey of just about every human. I think feeling like this is a journey no one else goes on, or navel gazing too much defeats the point.
ReplyDeleteI guess my journey has been “ you aren’t special because of your pain” and I’d suggest remembering that. Van Gough produced masterpieces but he was also just a guy who was depressed. Like you. And me.
I try not to let my own mental illness impact my responsibilities around me, and make sure I’m there for my kids. I hope you have something in your life that helps you do the same
You're right, pain is certainly not unique to me. It doesn't make me special. In fact, part of the reason I make these posts is so that other people can see that they aren't alone. Even the general experience of my pain isn't unique, and your perspective is a very healthy one.
DeleteHowever, it has been my experience that when I'm in a bad place it's hard to have that kind of perspective. I think that some people, like myself, aren't well equipped to handle this kind of struggle with grace, and that's part of what I'm trying to express.
I have people who keep me accountable to my responsibilities. Sometimes to a bare minimum, sometimes much more than that, but they are always there for me, even when I have trouble seeing them.